When her eyes fluttered open against the day's bright waning light, she watched for a few moments as both white and black clouds floated by. The sky was most vibrant blue, but as the sun began to set, streaks of orange and pink added a touch of whimsy to the canvas. Weightless flakes of ash drifted on a gentle breeze, yet their sight didn't alarm her. She was comfortably lying against a warm firm mass enjoying the rays of sunlight filtering down through the clouds and trees to her. Her hand rested on a soft patch of... something. The feel of it reminded her of one particular fluffy barn cat back home on her family's estate. Its long calico fur always needed a good brushing, and Evelyn was happy to escape from her mother's lessons to groom him. She closed her eyes imagining the barn with all its noises and smells... An odd metallic stench reached her, along with the sound of buzzing flies. When her short-term memory returned, Evelyn's eyes widened and her hand ceased its petting. Turning her head slowly to the right, she held her breath as she gazed upon what she was slumped against.
With a scream, she pushed herself off of the dead dire wolf, scooting backward on her hands and butt. The animal was on its side with its throat torn open. A long pink tongue hung from its mouth and flies buzzed in and out of it. When she bumped into something else that was smooth and bulky, her hair skirted her shoulders turning in shock again to see a dead Axlan impaled upon a solid tree branch. His arms were positioned as if he had cradled something - or someone - and his eyes gazed down heavily at whatever he had been holding. Looking around frantically panting in fright, she realized they had been thrown quite a distance to where earlier in the battle, Evelyn had used a force spell to knock the canine off of their lioness.
Off to the side licking her wounds sat Kitsa herself atop a long rock that jutted out from the ground. She tilted her thick head to one side, Apologies Phoenix, I had thought you'd be more comfortable resting on the wolf than the man.
Groaning at her aches and pains, Evelyn slowly stood, "Was letting me just lay in the dirt not an option? I hate big dead furry animals." She cringed in disgust while the cat gave her a sharp look. "How long have I been out for?"
Not long, but our people search for you. I couldn't risk leaving you to fetch them in case there were still enemies about. I've tried to call them, but I'm too weak.
Her brow creased in concern walking over to Kitsa. Her skin was littered with bites and deep claw marks. "You need to be seen by Dhara." Looking back towards her path of destruction, Evelyn realized she had flown through the fire that engulfed the forest. "I suppose I need to do something about that fire." Raising her arms, she found her mana had been partially restored by the blast from the red lyrium. As she touched her magic, something on her torso began to glow, "What the--?" The symbols that Hakkon carved in her skin were pulsing like the mark on her palm. Causiously she continued to use her magic, dousing what fires she could see through the dense brush.
Turning back to Kitsa, they watched the light fade from the god's markings. The feline grumbled, It seems you've been branded by a god, Phoenix.
She huffed with a weary look, "Please tell me that’s a good thing. Is that different than my mark?" The cat simply licked her bloodied paw before grooming herself with it. She sighed at her silence, placing her hands on her hips. "Right, a problem for later. We need to get you back to the Hold. Can you limp yourself back with me? I'd prefer it if you weren't here alone. As you said, we don't know who could be out here still." With a slow stiff stretch and yawn, the Hold Beast gingerly put weight on her hurt leg, hopping down from her perch. "I'm not leaving these bodies here, back up," she gently pushed the lioness to a safe distance before unleashing a hot torrent of flame at the dead. They did not deserve a sky burial for their betrayal of the gods and Avvar. Their actions were detrimental to their people, and not only had they been weakened through war and the use of red lyrium, but Korth Mountain-Father was suffering. Regardless if Axlan was responsible in some way for it or not, or if he fell victim to the 'goddess,' his traitorous actions had only helped this infection propagate.
Having obliterated their corpses, the two made the slow walk out of the forest back to the battlefield. With her rage cooled, her heart skipped a beat at the carnage spread out across the meadow that had once been full of excitement over the Thane's knotting. The stage where they had stood had caved in from the warriors fighting on it; the bouquets of cheerful and fragrant flowers that decorated the aisle were scattered and overwhelmed by the sight and stench of death; and the sounds of joy were replaced with the moans of the wounded and dying. Images of her severely wounded friends and family flashed through her mind: Cullen drenched in blood; Bran's shoulder cut to the bone; Rylen's broken bones; Owayne's shredded leg from the dire wolf; and Cassandra's sundered armor. With their fate unknown after the red lyrium idol exploded, she found herself averting her eyes from the bodies being arranged in the field.
The Skymother's birds had descended from the heavens to reclaim the fallen warriors. Both clans worked to ready the bodies for the avian undertakers who worked efficiently in groups. The ruckus of the caws they raised was such that it could wake the dead, but served only to call the Lady's other pets to their sacred duty. While the clothing of the dead was removed, the thick clay that they used to hunt was globbed on for modesty while loved ones said goodbye. By the time it dried, it was of no consequence to the scavengers who easily pecked it away to get at the flesh. Some bodies were taken back into the Hold for sky burial another day as a choice of the family wanting to make additional offerings to the gods. Several others who had known the fallen gathered around the bodies to say goodbye before the brazen birds, as if knowing it was time, moved to pick the bones clean.
Yet even so, her treacherous gaze caught sight of something that shot a sharp jolt of terror through her causing her heart to pound.
It was the kind of dread one was supposed to feel before her wedding, not after it. Careful as to where she was placing her bare feet as she navigated the field, she couldn't help the chills raking her body. Nervously pulling down Cullen's ruined wedding shirt, she hugged herself trying to imagine his arms surrounding her in their safety. To her left was where she and Dorian slaughtered a third of the enemy force. To her right, a bald patch of dirt stood out in contrast to the grass bent down around it where she must've destroyed the idol. With a hand to halt Kitsa, she scampered over to the spot where she found her weapons and the shattered lyrium crystal. Unlike before, its glow had vanished, leaving it lifeless. She sensed nothing from it and sighed in relief until her eyes caught a glare off an ornately styled helmet.
A few yards away lay Cullen's lion helm caked with blood and mud. Quickly running over to it, she picked it up searching about frantically holding it to her heart. Her wild messy hair whipped about, spying his unrepairable shield, but no sword or… Evelyn couldn't bring herself to even think it, and with her weapons and his helm rejoined Kitsa in their march back behind the walls of Redhold.
The closer they got to the tall wooden walls, the more people paused in their tasks or groaned to bow a head to her. Questions flew at her from everywhere, and she answered them absently, unsure if the words even made sense. Her mind was scanning the faces and the landscape for a tall man with blonde hair missing his wedding shirt. She continued through the crowd growing denser around her, giving kind touches here and there with as much grace as she could muster, but the worried grimace on her face couldn't be helped. It dawned on her then as her mind replayed their voices, that they had been offering sympathy to her…
"Evie! Kitsa!" The Augur ran over to them immediately hugging them both in turn. Relieved tears glistened in her green eyes, "Thank the Father, yer both returned safely to us! The Thane was beside himself when we couldn't find ye, despite the Hold Spirits telling us ye'd return in your own time."
The Lady of the Hold grabbed the young mage's shoulders, pleading in desperation, "Where is he? Is he alright?"
The look Dhara made said it all. Biting her lip and diverting her gaze, it seemed Cullen's fate was hanging in the balance. "Ilara's taken him to your home to work on him. He's badly wounded…"
Evelyn didn't wait for her to say more and pushed past her. "Take care of Kitsa!" She yelled back taking off in a sprint. Garnering sad looks along the way through the market, when she reached the doors to their home she burst through them, throwing down the weapons and helm alerting them to her arrival.
At her entrance, the scene unfolding before her stilled like a painting except for the two in the center of the room. A chorus echoed about the large room voicing their relief at seeing her back safe and in better condition than all of them. Slowly she walked towards the center-right of the room where Cullen was laid out on the dining table. The teal glow of Ilara's healing magic created a haze about his form. He was growling and groaning, gripping the wooden table hard with white knuckles. Standing over him, the healer held her arms over his chest, spreading and flexing her fingers. Her silhouette looked as if it were weakening as it swayed slightly like a thin reed in the wind.
The others around the room were all in different states of distress. Sitting in Cullen's large chair in the corner was Owayne nursing a bottle of some libation. "Evie, thank the Maker you're back! Not sure I believed the word of these Hold Spirits, but I'm glad-- ow!" His leg was propped up and Cassandra was stitching up the long claw marks left there from the wolf. As she sewed, Evelyn could see she blinked more often than usual, causing her to think she was hiding tears. Though at her brother's blasphemous words, she glared at him.
In another chair rested Rylen already bandaged with Rosalie's efficiency. The Master of the Hunt had been staring off with a deep frown watching Ilara as if under a spell. His beau rushed about boiling water and grinding herbs with wet cheeks. Her blonde hair looked stressed, with wisps flowing freely from her low ponytail. The eldest Rutherford emerged from Bran's room wiping her tears away angrily, clearly wanting to put on a brave front. Pointing and directing her two children to prepare herbs and bandages, they stared back at their mother in a state of confusion at the scene before them. The gaze of her youngest, Rosemary, kept darting over to a body that lay draped in a sheet of linen.
Cullen tried to sit himself up ignoring the protests, and it was only by her gentle shushing that he settled back down. "Shh, I'm here," she smoothed back his dirty locks, watching the visible relief wash over him. Dried blood was smeared from his nose and mouth at an odd angle. Only having come closer she realized he was coughing it up, having stepped in it on the floor. He gripped her hand with a crushing force while trying to speak, but she pressed a finger to his lip, "Save your strength. Ilara," the weary mage looked a decade older, "what's his condition?"
Her usually sweet tone was strained, sucking in sharp breaths here and there, "His lungs are punctured. He was all but crushed to death by Axlan, Rylen too."
"Aye, but yer fool of a husband insisted she heal me first," his friend added.
"My mana is almost exhausted along with our supply of lyrium. I've got one more vial, but…" Ilara trailed off blinking a few times as if her vision was blurring. "Even if I take it, I fear I don't have the power to heal him. Rylen wasn't as bad. I'm hardly able to keep him alive. You could do it though."
Panic rose like a geyser within her, "Me?! No, I…" She looked at her dying husband as he sputtered more blood off the side of the table. Her sisters-in-law stood trembling beside her. "I’m no healer, the Senior Enchanters in Ostwick always said my healing was too overwhelming… I could kill him! Wh-where's Dorian or Dhara?!"
Mia's voice rasped out with a dead tone, "They are with the rest of the clan. They need healing too." Taking a step forward, the matron's red grief-stricken eyes pleaded with her, with Rosalie hooked in her arm sobbing, "Please sister, you must try. Cullen is…" A choked sob surprised them both when it came up, and Evelyn couldn't help the tears welling up in her as well.
With a hopeless huff, she spun from the two women, tears falling gazing down at Cullen. He reached a shakey bloody hand up to brush her cheek, "It's alright, I know you'll take good care of Redhold."
Evelyn's eyes widened, a strangled obstinate laugh escaping her lips, "You think you're getting out of this marriage that easily?" A spike of anger came through in her tone at the thought of him leaving her, "If so, you got another thing coming, Rutherford. I…" She bent down and lowered her voice almost to a growl, "I'm not going to let you die, you hear me?"
"Evelyn, I--" A wave of immense pain seized him before he could finish.
The healer whimpered, "My Lady, I cannot go on for much longer. Please…"
The Phoenix roughly pushed up her sleeves and downed the last vial of lyrium to fortify her mana. Standing on the opposite side of the table from Ilara, she held hands out. As if preparing for battle, she shook her sore muscles into action, "You're going to walk me through this, right Lar?"
The mage nodded, "Just join your mana into my spell so I can stop casting." Following orders, immediately Ilara slumped to the ground for a moment. Catching herself on the table, Evelyn held the spell, which was easy enough at least until the petite golden-haired mage recovered her wits. The few minutes that passed as Rosalie got Ilara water and a chair to sit on beside the Phoenix, Evelyn's eyes were trained on her husband in concentration. She urged him to take deep breaths and reassured him - and in part her - through her fiery resolve that he would be alright. "Evie," her fellow mage grasped her forearm, "I should be able to direct you through, feeling the spell's energy. Are you ready?"
Swallowing hard and clenching her jaw she exchanged a look of stubborn determination with the other Rutherfords, "I'm ready."
"Close your eyes, healing is about feeling, unlike what you're used to when aiming your spells at enemies. You must rely on your senses." With a deep steadying breath, she did as commanded. "The spell cast on him is one of preservation: neither healing nor hurting him. It's all I could do until help came, which thanks to the gods you did. Can you feel how rigidly it holds his bones in place?" Evelyn nodded, for it was as stable as a stick house on the Storm Coast. "You can relieve some of his pain by finding the inflamed areas."
"How? I've only ever done it through actually touching an injury. I've not the talent to 'sense' it as you do."
"You can touch him but do not break your concentration from the spell. I'll help." Standing, Ilara helped guide Evelyn's hand to the center of Cullen's chest. She gently rested it atop his diaphragm, "From here you should be able to find the pain." Nodding fervently, she would've beamed at the excitement of actually having a thimble full of success at the healing arts, but the circumstance didn't warrant it yet. "Good, now give him what relief you can offer him, banish the pain with your mana."
In a flood of numbing, Cullen let go of the breath he was holding in, panting and blinking his eyes. "Korth's breath!" She would've found the crack in his voice funny if under different circumstances.
"Easy Phoenix or he's not going to be able to feel his toes." That had always been Evelyn's problem with Spirit Healing, she could never regulate the flow of the spells. Her spells were always cast to pack a punch, for when would she ever want to gradually cast any of her Inferno magic? She was no sadist, and her spells required maximum power with each cast. She tried to back her mana down but ended up breaking the perseverance spell. Both mages cried out despairingly as the weight of Cullen's injuries hit him like a ton of rocks. He cringed and winced before his eyes rolled back in his skull and he collasped lifeless.
Panic set into the two mages as they feverishly shouted back and forth, "Hakkon take me! Evie, you need to re-cast the spell over him or he'll die!"
"I can't! I don't know it! I was just holding the one you cast in place!" Her heart pounded wildly making her feel lightheaded.
"Well, I can't, I don't have the mana! You need to try!"
Everyone who could jump up in their various injured states did and huddled around the table, all adding their say into the mix. Mia had already lost her husband, so she was numb and bitter, but Rosalie hid her face in her shoulders sobbing uncontrollably against her. Cassandra was angrily growling and pacing that someone better do something, leaving her brother stitched up to watch the scene before him crumbling. Rylen limped his way over looking at his friend with a quiet sorrow, before bowing his head and mumbling prayers.
"Come, Ros," Mia ushered her to their brother's side, "we must pray to The Lady of the Skies for his soul."
Rosalie complied for a few steps before pushing her elder sister away, "No! I won't give up on him! When has he ever given up on us? When you refused the Thaneship, it was he who fought for our family's legacy. I held his hand through the deaths of his wives and children, and when the Hold Spirits told him of the prophecy. Cullen has put everyone ahead of himself for the past decade, causing immeasurable pain to himself. He deserves more than this!"
Mia scowled snapping back, "And what can you do about it?! Nothing! Not for Bran, and not for Cullen!" Her tone was harsh, and the fragile resolve that Rosalie had mustered, fled in an instant. What hurt Evelyn the most witnessing the sisters at odds was the cruel efficiency of the elder Rutherford's words. The two sisters were opposites in personality, and while they had banded together in the past, without Cullen's firm enduring presence, they were falling apart.
Spinning and running gently into Rylen's protective embrace, he shot a glare at Mia, "Don't raise yer voice at her. We're all at a loss as to what to do."
"Perhaps you and our Head Warrior should've protected him and avoided this all together! You took an oath. He is your Thane."
"Aye, but he's also our best warrior. He will not stand at our backs while we fight battles for him; No, he leads from the front, and that's always been his way. It's why he's Thane."
Mia scoffed spitefully, "A lot of good that's done him."
"Rylen and I stood by him the whole battle," Cassandra stomped over to the widow with a sharp glare that could kill. "You are not a warrior; you have no semblance of the kind of enemy we faced out there. Tradition dictates that the Thanes of opposing sides find each other on the field of battle. Axlan was raving mad speaking of a 'goddess' from in the red lyrium that gave him immense strength. You saw some of the other clansmen who came in dead or wounded; some were missing limbs, but not from a weapon, they were torn from their bodies by the infected. Others were crushed beyond recognition. By Korth, look at all our shield arms!" She struggled to lift hers while nodding towards Cullen's arm. "Ilara healed my broken arm, but mine was shattered as our Thane's is. Our shields never stood a chance against their might."
As her words sank in, surprisingly, Mia's fury dissolved into crippling anguish once more. She was going through stages of grief, and the rest of them were tired mentally and physically from the emotional whiplash of their wedding day paired with a brutal battle. Sometimes Evelyn wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of battles; if she didn't have magic and was simply a daughter, sister, or wife of a soldier. One who busied herself boiling bandages and mashing poultices behind the safety of sturdy walls unknowing of her loved ones' fate until it was over. She supposed it could be considered more stressful in many instances, just waiting, preparing, and praying unable to do much else until they came through the door of their own accord or carried. Mia had chosen a domestic life, and the more Evelyn thought about it, the more she realized her tough act could be just that. The eldest daughter of a Thane who wanted a simple domestic life away from hold politics. The Phoenix knew all too well about family expectations and no doubt Mia had the same placed on her but fought against her assigned destiny. It had to have been incredibly hard, knowing that the two eldest Rutherfords were very much like their father when it came to stubbornness. Like her, she probably suffered through parental disappointment and shaming by one or both of them, all to have the life she wanted. Now her husband was dead, her children fatherless, and her brother was slipping into the Spirit Realm.
Evelyn stared at her and in a moment of decisiveness, vowed she would not be Mia. She would not abandon her duty; she would not hide behind walls; she would not lose her husband.
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They all looked to Cullen's broken body lying on the table before them knowing the true source of their frustration. As they did, one by one, they slowly looked to the Phoenix. The room began to grow warmer the brighter her orange eyes glowed, staring at Mia. Raising her left fist in front of her face, she let her mana flow into their bond mark - the one magical tether binding them. Seeing Cullen's mirror hers, she shut her eyes. Through their bond she had a strong connection with him, one she couldn't achieve through her novice healing skills.
Banish the pain, Ilara's words echoed in her mind. Find it, vanquish it. Knowing she was not supposed to tap into her fiery temper when healing, she found the magic worked differently through their bond. Guided by her mana, her arm moved to each of his injuries, hovering just over them. Each wound drank greedily from her mana, taking what it needed with her allowance.
"Skymother bless us, she's doing it... she's healing him!" Ilara's voice caused a stir about the room.
Evelyn didn't chance opening her eyes to see the relief she heard through their sighs and prayers unwilling to hope until she saw him lucid and scolding her to no avail for one reason or another. Gods, what she wouldn't give to just hear him call her 'woman' the way he did when he was cross. Refocusing on the task at hand, she had reconstructed his chest, so that his ribs weren't broken and puncturing his lungs. As if she had her face against his chest, she could hear the strong breaths he was taking compared to the labored wheezing before. There was internal bleeding that she stemmed and cleared, finishing the last of the major injuries.
As she went to move to his shield arm, an icy draft made her shiver. "Easy, Evie. I've got you. You're... a bit heavier... than you look though." Suddenly she was aware Ilara was holding her partially up before another warm set of hands grasped her. Her head lulled to the side briefly catching the flowery scent of Rosalie. "She has used a lot of mana, I'm not quite sure how she's still going. Unfortunately, she hasn't been able to fix his arm."
"She's stubborn, that's how," Owayne chimed in from across the room. "Sometimes she just needs a little push." He paused before yelling a bit gravely directing to her, "Come on Evie, you're not going to quit now, are you? Fight! You're still part Trevelyan, bold in deed!" At her brother's encouragement, she shook off her friends standing up of her own volition. She was going to finish healing Cullen even if it exacted a price from her in the process.
With renewed confidence and a shakey second wind, Evelyn's eyes snapped open to stare at her husband's face. The orange glow of her Phoenix wings lit the room, confirming that this last stretch would indeed be a fight, though not one she was used to. She placed her two hands over his shattered shield arm as she poured the last of her mana into repairing it. Her facial muscles twitched and began to bend over as she fought through the exhaustion. Gritting her teeth and growling to expend every last bit of her mana so he'd have function in his arm, she realized she was losing her battle against the call of the Fade. It yearned to reestablish its connection with the mage and in one last rally of everything in her very being for a sign that he was alive, she slammed her fist on the table. In a jolt, Cullen's eyes opened groggily and he groaned in pain until he saw her.
Numb and unable to do anything but watch him through the slow heavy blinks of her eyelids, a calming relief washed over her. He was alive and after struggling to sit against the stiffness, was now studying her - they were all looking at her. She didn't mind though for she felt light as air in the quiet darkening void of her mind. Her eyes couldn't focus, nor move so everything just became a blur of colors. Another wave of something filled her as her chin fell to her chest, then back as the room spun around her. The dizziness brought on a hot pressure in her ears and a moment later, she awoke in the Fade.
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Cullen had been on the brink of death. What he saw and heard in the timeless period where he was lying on that table was surreal. He heard many voices of people both alive and dead. After Axlan nearly beat him to death before running after Evelyn, he became keenly aware that she was far stronger than he. Though he was loathed to admit it, he felt slightly ineffectual next to her. His wives had always stayed in the Hold, seeing to their traditional role. They were safe there, he had only to worry about victory, but now, now that was no longer true.
When Kitsa bolted from his side after that stray arrow hit her, he could've grabbed her by the scruff like a cub and dragged her back into the Hold. He had a plan, one that kept the Phoenix safe while making her feel useful. She would throw her fireballs at the enemy, happy that she was able to do so, then would retreat behind the line where no one could harm her… yet, that all went to the Void in a few seconds. He had kept a close eye on her throughout the battle, but there were times he could do nothing to help her. Worse, he couldn't focus like he used to, always concerned with her and not the clan, or better yet, the battle. Yes, she was the prophetic Phoenix, but was he to sacrifice the whole of the clan to save one person? One insanely important woman? His wife? His love?
Those questions circled him in his state of delirium like vultures, creating more complexity to his situation. When would the gods stop punishing him for the sins of his father after he abandoned the Hold? A Thane could do no worse than that. Worse still, it was his mother's love that sent his father on a quest for revenge against the Templars. If something happened to Evelyn, would react the same way? Would Bran be forced to follow in his shoes should they both die? No, the Phoenix couldn't die. Time after time she had come back from the impossible like her namesake. She would be Thane, and a good one too. Hehad married Evelyn, so in the event of his death, she'd become Thane. His part in this world was done…
No, she needs to have a child… did it have to be his? Surely not. It would be an easy task finding a man to…
From the moment she first came to Redhold, she was the enchanting Lowlander sent to save them. He doubted there was a man who hadn't noticed her striking beauty despite their initial treatment of her. Had she lost all her toned muscle, she would no doubt be well-suited to sit in those fancy ill-colored Orlesian salons Dorian described to him, doing whatever it is noble women did. The smooth contour of her face and skin - take away the scars - was considered rare among their people. No marks from sickness, nor labor were etched on her body - at least from what little time he had had to look. Evelyn's fingers weren't calloused from weaving; she hadn't the smell of a brewer; nor the dotting of rashes and stings of an herbalist. She did boast scars from battle, yet such things were a commonality in the Basin. What wasn't common was her mastery of the flame. It was truly amazing and beautiful to witness. The way the orange glow reflected on her hair and form, to her fluid movements as she wielded it; it was an art form much like his with a sword.
The thought of a weapon brought the vision of Axlan cleaving open her stomach fresh into his haze of thoughts. In a brief interval of lucidness, he heard Cassandra's voice in particular nearby and tried to order her to find Evelyn. Gods, everything hurt, why didn't it just end? He was no stranger to pain, but this… this was something else…
When he heard his wife's voice at last, his state of shock was lifted as he tried to sit up, there were things he needed to tell her. Despite, his mouth not working properly unable to keep up with his flowing list of things he thought he rambled off, she understood something of it and quickly scolded him for it. He had heard her say something like 'he wouldn't be getting out of this marriage that easily,' which was in fact the opposite of what he wanted. Again, he had tried to speak but not before he felt like his heart burst in his chest. It had sent him closer towards death than he felt a mortal should ever have to experience unless it was truly The Lady calling for them.
It was then within the fog of the dark Void that he spoke with the dead.
Alone, he stood before the three stone altars of the gods. The first on the left was The Lady of the Skies with the same look as it had at her lake. There was even a single raven perched atop the smooth stone looking at him sideways. The right altar was that of Hakkon's fearsome face atop a pile of bones. His large eyes glowed red, coincidentally the same hue as Evelyn's mark. Lastly, in the center was a shrine to Korth Mountain-Father. Made of a plethora of sharp flakes of various flints held together by cooled lava, he was again reminded of his mortal wife. Unsure of what to do, for he never died before, he prayed to all three from where he stood for he swore he couldn't move. In the silence that followed his supplication, he began to call out to his deceased relations for help. The first name brought a flood of… was it warmth? He couldn't tell, but it felt like a ghost of what he had once experienced in life.
"Kattrin?" Cullen called her several times, but no one came. When he called upon his mother next, she appeared instantly.
"Cullen? Why are you here, my little lion?" Her head tilted in confusion. She was as he remembered her as a boy with her long wavy auburn hair and brown eyes. The features of her face were sweet and kind like Rosalie's, and she placed her hands on her hips the way she did when he refused to come inside for dinner, still wanting to swordfight with the other boys.
"Mother, I… I think I died."
She looked at him with a skeptical pout, "No, you look very much alive to me still. Call your father, ask him."
Cullen felt paralyzed at the idea of it. "N-no, I don't think I will. I'm not sure I'm ready to see him yet."
Nodding sympathetically, she looked him up and down with a smile. Seeing his awkwardness at the silence, she changed the subject abruptly, always careful of flustering his feelings, "You've grown into quite a man. I'm not sure I can call you 'my little lion' any longer."
He snorted a laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck, "It's probably not the most accurate description anymore. By the gods, it is good to see you again Mother. I've missed you."
"And I you. I see you're married again, good. This woman is…" She tapped a finger on her chin, causing him to laugh despite everything. "Well, she's something. Shall we leave it there?" She straightened crossing her arms and raised an eyebrow with a mischievous grin.
"Yes," he chuckled, "yes, we can." He wondered for a moment if he could blush in this state of being. Speaking of Evelyn, reminded him of the other woman he had tried to summon. "Before I called you, I tried to call Kattrin but she didn't come. I would've liked to see her, if only briefly."
His mother's face suddenly looked guilty and grave, letting her arms fall to her sides. "I think it's best if you try and move on from her, my son. It is not our way to dwell heavily on such things. We pay homage and remember, but we do not as long you've done."
He narrowed his eyes at the scolding, unable to ignore the feeling as if she was hiding something. "Mother, is she not in The Sky?"
"Cullen," her tone was a stern warning, "the answer will only bring you pain, something your current wife has spared you from."
"What is it? Evelyn knows about Kattrin, and I do not. Why? Tell me, mother!"
She huffed, pursing her lips together like when she was especially cross, "Very well, but you will listen to all I have to say on it, is that clear?" He nodded resolutely, and her face pliable not willing to wound him, but he wanted the truth and to know what secrets Evelyn hid from him. The thought that she had withheld such information about someone so important to him struck him funny. "Kattrin is not in The Sky," the matter-of-fact tone irritated him when such news was catastrophic. The shock of it was so profound, it was as if he felt his heart rupturing again. He had dreamt for some time of being reunited with her eventually, finally having his happy ending in the afterlife by her side. It shamed him that he had thought of her less and less recently having been distracted by Evelyn. This limbo between life and death brought such yearnings to the forefront of his mind. What if she felt forgotten or unloved?
"If she's not there, then where?" His desperation showed in his every feature. "Please, I love her! She was to wait for me so we could be together again!"
"I fear now all you love is a memory. Evelyn has killed her. Anything that had once been of Kattrin is forever gone."
"What?!" Cullen's voice thundered through the Spirit Realm, but the space was so vast it produced no echo. He could not remember the last time such a rage took hold of him. Mortal feelings began to return to him; they were smothering, all-consuming, and drowning him. A primal fury painted the Phoenix his enemy suddenly, and the whirlwind of events beginning with the prophecy unraveled before him. His body jerked about as if he were pacing, yet he hadn't moved. Despite his reaction, his mother patiently waited for him to calm down with a disapproving look. "Tell me it isn't so, mother! I won't be able to stand being in her presence if it's true! I'll… I'll…" His hands shook with vehement rage flexing like claws.
"You've your father's rage, Cullen. The same anger you can't forgive him for." She chided him, "Are you going to challenge your wife? Try to kill her?" Her brown eyes harshly bore into him, "Do that, and this time she may just kill you."
"Yet how could I bear to even look upon her? I couldn't possibly return now and go on like before! And to think I… I had come to love her!"
"You gave me your word, son, that you'd hear all I have to say, and I am not yet finished." Cullen raked his fingers through his thick hair, pulling it slightly in his frustration. Throwing his hands back down at his sides, he closed them in fists as his chest heaved. It was then his bond mark sputtered to life, illuminating the space with the warm hues of the Phoenix's fire. His mother shook her head, "Well, little lion, you are certainly still that after such a display. As you seek the love of another woman, your wife is trying desperately to save you." He felt torn, bringing his wrist up between them. As he stared into the magical enchantment stained into his skin, he could feel Evelyn's power rush through him.
The sudden headrush caused the void around him to fade and for a brief moment he was back on the hand-sewn wood table, "Korth's breath!" He heard himself exclaim at being tugged back to his physical body. Everyone was gathered around him, but his eyes tried to focus on the two mages. For a few seconds, he felt no pain, as if he could hop off the table, but it was short-lived. With crushing force and speed, he once more succumbed to the pain of his mortal form. There was a great uproar in the room but it was all just noise to his ears. As he hit the table, his consciousness was launched back into the Spirit Realm.
When he appeared, his mother was still there waiting for him. Surprisingly and oddly enough she was laughing, "Your Phoenix is giving it a good try, but she is no healer. I'm not sure even I could've taught her, for she seems well suited in her current school. What does she usually refer to herself as? Oh, 'crazy fireball thrower!' Very accurate."
He bent over still reeling from the phantom pain, "I'm feeling numb again. They were in quite a state, I think I really am dying this time." Again, his bond mark ignited but was infinitely brighter than before, so much so it was hard to see his hand.
"I told you, you're not meant to be here, not yet." Her long hair waved as she nodded to his tattoo, "Through her will alone, you will live."
He frowned, growling out, "Am I to be grateful then? If it is as you say, I want nothing to do with her."
Sighing in dismay at her son's stubbornness, she tilted her head lovingly scolding him, "Cullen, do you remember the day of her Rite of Initiation? When she and Dhara had been attacked by a demon, remember?" He nodded thoughtfully. "The demon was named Envy and it was created by Kattrin." Seeing her son's expression drop to one of shock and disbelief, she continued, "Kattrin gave her soul in a moment of weakness to a shade who whispered poison in her ear. Her love soured after she watched not one, but two women take their place by your side." An inaudible 'no' escaped him. His mother pressed on with a determined gaze, "This shade took her soul to transform into Envy, who went on to attack the mages. Its purpose was to imitate the Phoenix and fail in her pursuit of the prophecy."
"By the gods…"
"Kattrin could've cost you everything because she was too weak--"
"She was tricked!"
"Cullen," his mother's voice dropped an octave, "she called the shade to her as jealousy took hold. Kattrin no longer thought of the clan or your happiness, but of herself. She did not have to live as a mage like your wife and I. You know this well, or have you forgotten in the years since I passed? Mages constantly fight demons in their dreams who are attracted to us like moths to a flame. Would you like to know why I'm most disappointed with Kattrin, son? Because the first and last time a shade approached her she fell for their honeyed words. If you'd like to approximate how many times the mages around you have resisted demons and shades alike, simply count the number of days since their magic surfaced." Her condemnation of his sweetheart was damning. His mother always liked her when they were alive, so her harsh judgment of her actions now was telling. He didn't know what to say, or how to feel. Seeing how lost he looked she stepped closer, but remained out of reach, speaking in the loving intonation he remembered her by, "Evelyn did not wish to burden you with this, and asked Dhara not to speak of it either."
The crushing weight of this revelation wounded him more than twenty Axlans ever could. There was truly no looking back anymore, for there was nothing to savor. Years of happy memories are now tainted. Every ounce of emotion he had fled, and he found himself - despite Evelyn's healing - numb. Cullen's eyes drifted downwards and he sunk to his knees. "I've nothing…"
"I did not raise you to wallow over the things you cannot have, nor be so ungrateful as to not see what the gods have given you, Cullen Stanton Rutherford!" His mother's sharp tone startled him, and he was forced to concede that she was right. Ever forward was the Avvar way. He remembered back to when Ninne was presented as a suitable wife, and how he dreaded it, still stuck on Kattrin. It was because of that, he was not a good husband to Ninne, and it had kept him at a distance from Evelyn at one time as well.
He was being incredibly selfish when there was a room full of people watching him lie on a table in his home half dead - one being his new bride. He tapped into the magic flowing through his bond tattoo and felt her unyielding resolve. He swore he could even hear or sense her thoughts… and they were begging and cursing at him to open his eyes. More than anything he felt her need for him; he thought her to be strong and independent, and while she was, she wanted a protector; a companion; a husband. He failed Ninne, and Kattrin failed him, but he would not fail Evelyn.
"Mother, I need to go," he said with a will of steel. The resolve he brandished was new and unbreakable.
She smiled with a warm glimmer twinkling in her brown eyes, "Yes, you do, my Cullen. Give my love to your siblings and my blessing to your Phoenix." Nodding he concentrated harder on Evelyn's magic feeling himself being pulled away. "And Cullen," he looked up breaking the link momentarily, "I love you son, but I don't want to see you back here for many years." He couldn't help but smile before returning to his body.
Immediately, he sat up on the table knowing she needed to see him. He fought through lingering pain and soreness just so she could see him alive before her strength was sapped from her. Cullen watched the subtle recognition in her beautiful chocolate eyes before they shut and her chin drooped down. Unable to move to catch her, her tall toned form fell on the two smallest women in the room, who cushioned her fall. After much fussing over his health, he convinced those still standing to take them both back to bed for rest, though he had no intention of it. For the remainder of the night, he held her hand hoping that she could feel his presence just as he had felt hers through time and space. Watching her in a peaceful slumber as she regained her strength in the Realm of Dreams, he prayed that no shade nor demon would bother her, even if they wouldn't survive the encounter.
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The smell of cinnamon and citrus greeted her after her long journey in the Fade. A bright ray of sunshine shone through the slats of the high window of her bedroom. Though it wasn't directly on her face, it was luminous enough to be seen through her eyelids. Rolling away from it, she clutched at a furry…
Evelyn shot up screaming and throwing the heavy pelts off the bed. Catching herself off balance in her frenzy to rid herself of the furry blanket, she fell back off the bed, feet flying high in the air. Scurrying back up to look over the bed to reassure herself she wasn't back in the woods with that godsdamn dire wolf, she froze when she was met with two blonde Rutherfords staring at her. Cullen had been sitting on a chair by the bed and Rosalie must've been bringing in the lovely breakfast she smelled.
"Wife." He smirked at her clearly amused by the performance. "Good to see you awake and so… agile after a day and a half of rest." With a nod to his sister, she smirked and hurried out of the room.
Evelyn let out the breath she had been holding with a nickering sound, "I thought I had woken up again on that blighted wolf!" She raked her finger through her hair in relief, before the events of their wedding caught up with her. Paling suddenly, Cullen saw it and stiffly tried to reach for her across the bed. Absently, she grasped his hand guiding her over to him and they sat down beside each other on the firm mattress. Her hands and eyes roved about him in careful inspection, taking note of every slight twitch signaling pain. He was bandaged all about his chest in a supportive hold, and his left arm was in a sling. "How are you feeling?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
She dismissed his concern with a scoff, "Please, you know me. Hakkon just keeps finding creative ways of patching me up. Now, how are you?"
"I feel as if Korth sat on me. Stiff. Sore. Hurts to move certain limbs. Is this what it feels like to be old? Hakkon's breath, I hope I die in battle before I'm old enough to feel like this daily."
Evelyn leveled a glare at him beside her, "I just saved your bloody arse! Can you plan your death when I'm not in earshot!" She thought very, very hard about jabbing him or pushing him but thought better of it not wanting to see a grown man cry. "Besides, I've been in Korth. It's very warm and he didn't squish me."
The look he gave her was priceless. He gapped and stuttered a few times, "You were in-- How? Gods woman, you just--" He was lost for words while she shook his head. Wait until she told him she was branded by Hakkon. Perhaps she'd keep it to herself for now… "What's that?" Looking down, it was the same symbols in question that began to glow red beneath her shift.
"Oh, that…"
"Evelyn," his brow drew down as she looked up at him chewing her lip. It was as if Hakkon had read her thoughts and decided to incriminate her. The thought of the possibility of it was frightening…
Cullen's hand reached for her clothes fingering part of the linen of it, but she pushed him away, "It's nothing to fret over! It's just…" Selfishly, she truly did not wish to ruin the morning with more bad news. Kitsa had called it a brand; A brand was a method of showing ownership or affiliation. Forgive her for not wanting to find out what Hakkon wrote on her flesh.
He held her gaze, raising an eyebrow, "Just what?"
"I've been branded… by Hakkon."
He didn't say anything for a moment, looking from the light emitting from her stomach to her face in turns. The slight frown on his face and quizzical glimmer in his amber eyes hardened at her, "I don't know what that means."
"Whew! Then you won't be ruining my morning." She fell back on the bed, catching wind of her aromatic breakfast again. Cullen must've thought she'd be laying there for a time, forgetting that she thought with her stomach in most instances. As he was gently lowering himself down when Evelyn popped up skipping to the small table in front of the screen that blocked the view into their room from the main room. "Ooo, Ros knows these are my favorite!" She hardly heard Cullen groan at the jolt the bed gave him when she bounced up. Turning back, she saw him squeeze his eyes shut and mumble a curse. Walking back over after taking a bite of the sweet roll, she slowly leaned over him, "Aww, my poor old decrepit husband. Maybe I should put you out of your misery? Seems like a waste." She trailed a finger up his thigh.
Watching his face intently with a smug smile, something unexpected happened. Evelyn came to expect by now his usual reaction to her teasing. It ranged from a scowl to a smirk but never had it brought on such a tender gaze of… affection. They hadn't said the 'L' word aloud yet. Did that matter? How was she to know, she was a former Circle mage? Swallowing hard, she tucked her hair behind an ear blushing, whispering sheepishly, "What? Do I have honey on my face?"
With a momentary lapse, his eyes scrunched and narrowed about her lips, "Now that you mention it…" Cullen smiled that rare exceptional smile she had only seen a few other times in their acquaintance. Even with the bruising of his left eye and jaw, the scrapes on his cheekbones, and the sealed cut encroaching into his hairline on the right, he was still devastatingly handsome. With a low growl, he pushed himself up with her gentle assistance, but his grin was hardly affected.
"Well?"
"What?"
She laughed, "What are you smiling about?"
"Something my mother said about you." She stared at him skeptically as her lips puckered in question. "Gods, where do I even begin?"
"Seems we have plenty to catch up on, but please, without going into how it was made possible, tell me what she said about me?" Evelyn couldn’t help her curiosity, sitting before him anxiously with her hands on her thighs. His mother was a mage, and despite believing that even if she wasn't she'd still respect her, it just made her opinion that much weightier to the Knight-Enchanter.
"She said you were something." He was holding back a chuckle as if there was a hidden meaning she wasn't aware of.
She blinked a few times, "Something - like a good kind of something?" Her look of incredulity deepened leaning closer to him. He nodded her head, but she wasn't satisfied, "Oh, there has to be more than that!"
"You're right there was more… she told me you lied to me about what happened when you fought Envy." He gave her a pointed look, tilting his head forward.
Her expression dropped to one of absolute guilt, "I-- I was planning to tell you…"
He stiffly took her hand, though, by his face, it was purely because he was injured and not due to any bitterness. "Evelyn, you've nothing to fear. I'm not angry - well, I suppose I was until my mother made me see reason. Her weakness almost cost us everything. If she was so consumed with jealousy and doubted what love she and I once had, then she betrayed me."
Despite his words of understanding, she couldn’t help but deflate at the latter omission. She was not so oblivious as to believe he didn't feel something for her, yet she couldn't help but feel second to a dead woman. Would it always be so? Part of her wanted to chastise herself for being so selfish, thinking back to her fellow mages in the Circle who would never enjoy the freedom she was given by the gods and the Thane. Yet, she wanted more; she wanted it all, but some things were beyond her power no matter how great. "Your mother just freely told you this," she couldn't look at him, and directed her gaze to the floor.
"No, I asked after I called Kattrin and she didn't appear. When my mother appeared on my first try, I knew something was wrong." Somehow that only made her feel worse. The moment when he had finally told her about his previous two wives, she should've been on guard and anticipated such a thing. How could she be so stupid and careless?
Now, her morning was ruined.
"I'm sorry I had to kill what was left of her." Her breathing was picking up, but she fought the tears trying to surface. She couldn't help but feel slightly betrayed as well having so desperately fought to save him - a man who loved another woman. Her thoughts spiraled: Was she easy to "care" for being so different from Kattrin? Did he prefer a kind, gentle, and sweet woman over her sass? Would he think about Kattrin when they'd lay together? Was this marriage just truly one of duty, or was he just trying to convince himself and her otherwise?
Ignoring his aches and pains, he brought her chin to him, instantly realizing his mistake upon close inspection, "If you hadn't, I would've lost you, and I can't bear the thought of it." Her eyes cautiously met his. "I think what I'm poorly trying to convey, it seems," tilting his head to the side seeing the small tear sitting beneath her lashes, "is that we Avvar don't dwell in what was, and now I understand why. I made the mistake of not letting Kattrin go with Ninne, and I'll be damned if I do it to you. From the moment you brought me back from the brink of death you have been first and foremost in my heart and mind." Looking more and more astonished, her heart began to flutter with hope. "What I didn't get a chance to say on our knotting day…" His calloused fingers played with a small wisp of her hair fondly, before tracing the long scar above her jawline. She watched him become distracted, but by the time she looked back up into his magnetic gaze, she forgot to breathe. "I love you." Their foreheads touched, "You are mine, and I am yours; never doubt that."
A small smile touched her lips while staring into his eyes. She took his sword hand and pressed it to her heart repeating their wedding vows. "You are mine, I am yours, and I love you too." Evelyn's fingertips gently grazed his bruised jaw, coaxing him closer.
"Are you choosing me?" He didn't need to elaborate, she knew what he meant. She had said the three magical words, but would she allow him her physical manifestations of its meaning?
“Yes," she breathed against his lips.
"Say it."
"I yield."
His eyes popped open, meeting hers as she chuckled invoking their tryst on Wintersend. Joining in her laughter only for a second, his hand reached the back of her neck pulling her into his kiss. Their bonding marks flared up brighter and more intense than the sunlight streaming into the room. The light earthy taste of elfroot from his healing draughts lingered on his breath. His stubble brushed against her silken skin and lips. She couldn't help the color rising in her cheeks despite everything they'd shared in the past. She savored the chaste kiss as he never pushed for more, but followed her cues. Nipping and tugging gently on his lips, she slowly alternated from top to bottom. Just as she came to ask him for more, flicking her tongue at him, the door opened.
"Good news—oh, oh!" Rosalie stopped dead with a wide grin splayed across her face, making no move to give them privacy. The two unwillingly parted, simply straightening their backs. A heat despite the chilly morning was flushed on their faces. "Bran's awake finally, thought you’d both like to know." The couple let out relieved sighs. Though Evelyn had no idea what happened to him after Owayne ran him into the Hold, during the battle, she was relieved to hear her savior was on the mend after that nasty wound.
When Ros left, the two readied themselves for the day. Cullen needed assistance dressing that she was happy to help him with, with the promise of a quick kiss anytime she neared his face. Reveling in the new dynamic of being married and kissing a man so freely, she had a lot to be grateful for. For all the pain and grief the battle would cause the Hold for the next few days as they saw to its aftermath, Axlan was dead, they were married, and the prophecy would continue on.
It was a very good morning.